Companions in Immortality
by Agatha S
Summary: In 17th century France, an evil wizard tries to get the Philosopher's Stone from Nicholas Flamel by kidnapping his wife Perenelle.


DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
  
COMPANIONS IN IMMORTALITY  
  
Gabriel and Isabelle Falconet lived in a small chateau far from any large town. The people from nearby villages knew that the Falconets were small aristocracy, not particularly important, and that they never had big banquets or balls, although they did occasionally have visitors.  
  
Both Gabriel and Isabelle were kind and handsome people, probably around forty years old. But there was something that some of the villagers noticed as peculiar: ever since they had bought the chateau and moved into it twenty years ago, they've looked as if they were around forty years old. The Falconets must be very healthy people, the villagers thought; time seemed to have no effect on them whatsoever.  
  
Sometimes the Falconets would show such youthful energy that they seemed even younger than forty. But the wisdom in their eyes, and tired and worried expressions that appeared on their faces at times, could make them look a hundred years old. People occasionally wondered about that, but they never dwelled on these thoughts for too long - they would immediately remember something else, much more important, that they had to think about. There was a reason for this - a magical reason.  
  
The Falconets were a witch and a wizard, but that had to be kept secret from all non-magical people (whom they called Muggles). Gabriel and Isabelle had protected themselves with a Confundus Charm, which prevented Muggles from thinking about them too clearly or discussing them for too long.  
  
But even within the magical community, Gabriel and Isabelle Falconet had a secret they had disclosed only to a few of their most trusted friends: they possessed the secret of immortality, and were more then three centuries old. Gabriel Falconet was really Nicolas Flamel, the celebrated alchemist who had discovered what alchemists had been seeking for centuries: the Philosopher's Stone - the substance that could be used in turning any metal into gold, and in producing the Elixir of Life. Isabelle Falconet was really Nicolas' beloved wife Perenelle with whom he shared his secret. As long as they drank the Elixir every day, they didn't have to fear Death.  
  
On a warm September morning, Perenelle woke up before her husband and, as usual, went to the orchard to gather some of the apples that had fallen off the trees. She loved this autumn morning ritual of hers. It gave her a feeling of tranquillity that lasted all day, making her feel that everything around her possessed the gift of eternal life, like her husband and herself.  
  
Making sure that there were no Muggles around to witness her use of magic, she took her wand in her hand and, using a Summoning Charm, made the golden yellow apples float through the air, one by one, into her basket. Then something strange caught her eye: one of the apples lying in the grass was shiny and red. Perenelle couldn't understand how that could have happened - all the apple trees in the orchard were of the same sort and their fruit should all have been golden. "Accio!" she said, summoning the red apple, and caught it in her hand. The very next moment she cursed her own stupidity. As her fingers closed around the apple she felt a pulling sensation in her stomach and knew instantly what it was: the apple was a Portkey.  
  
The green and golden orchard that had surrounded her vanished. She was in a large room with stone walls and vaulted ceilings, lit only by the sunlight that could enter through the small windows. There was no one in the room but herself. Angry at herself, Perenelle threw the red apple at the wall and it smashed into pieces. She rushed to the door and tried to push it, but it was locked, and most likely bolted on the outside. She had expected that. Her wand was still in her hand; she waved it and whispered "Alohomora!" but nothing happened. That was something she had expected as well - whoever went trough the trouble of making a Portkey that led to this room and tricking her into touching it, wasn't likely to allow her to escape in such a simple way.  
  
Without much hope, Perenelle tried to Disapparate out of the stone room. She wasn't able to do it - of course, she thought, any wizard who wants to be able to imprison other wizards would protect the prison from Apparition. She shuddered. Someone had made quite an elaborate plan to capture her, and she feared that she knew the reason.  
  
With a sigh she approached the window and looked outside. She was in a stone castle, a medieval one, from her own time or even older. The castle was surrounded by a moat, and beyond it there was nothing but marshland covered with a thin layer of fog - no other house anywhere in sight. Small bright lights flickered through the fog. Probably Hinkypunks luring people into the marshes, Perenelle thought.  
  
With a sigh, she sat on one of the chairs around the large oak table in the middle of the room. The furniture was elaborately decorated - she was obviously in the home of a noble wizard family. She sat there for some time, trying to imagine what Nicolas was doing. She was aware that he might not notice that she was missing until much later in the day. He would usually spend mornings in the Alchemy laboratory, while she preferred to work in the herb garden or read in the library. However, if she was right in her suspicions, her captor would inform her husband of what he had done as soon as possible, and demand the highest ransom in the world for her freedom. "Don't surrender it to them, Nicolas," she whispered. "You know you mustn't."  
  
She didn't know how long she sat at the oak table, immersed in unhappy thoughts, when she heard a noise outside the door - clumsy, heavy footsteps. Then a man's voice - a pleasant, smooth voice - said:  
  
"Stay in the hall, both of you, and guard the entrance. I shall go in and see whether our guest has arrived yet." Two voices answered him, but Perenelle wasn't sure if they'd actually used words - it sounded more like grunts. She thought she recognised the sounds and knew what kind of creature made them, and it was by no means a comfortable thought.  
  
The door opened and a wizard wearing a long, black cloak walked into the room, looking very self-assured. Perenelle stood up quickly, but before she could do anything else the wizard raised his wand lazily and said:  
  
"Expelliarmus!"  
  
Her wand flew out of her hand and the wizard caught it and put it in his pocket. Then he walked a few steps towards her and greeted her with a courteous bow, as if they'd met at a normal social occasion.  
  
"Please, feel welcome in my home, madame Flamel". Perenelle felt it would be futile to protest that he'd made a mistake and that her name was Isabelle Falconet, so she said nothing. "My name is Arcanus d'Agincourt," said the wizard in the same well-mannered voice. Perenelle merely nodded, and glanced at the open door behind him. She could not see the creatures he had left in the hall, but she felt an unpleasant odour - and it surely was not coming from d'Agincourt, who gave off only the slight scent of some expensive perfume. She frowned a little bit, and d'Agincourt noticed it.  
  
"I apologise for the lamentable hygiene habits of my guards, madame. They are trolls, as you already might have guessed. Once one adapts oneself to the smell, they are really valuable and efficient guardians." He turned his head towards the open door and smirked ironically. "So I would sincerely advise against trying to leave the room, madame Flamel. I know that they cannot harm you, not at the present, but they will certainly stop you."  
  
"I'm aware of that," Perenelle said grimly. She noticed that her captor had stressed the words "not at the present", and that meant that he knew a lot about the exact way the Elixir affected those who took it. As long as there were traces of the Elixir in her blood, flowing around her body, she was safe from any physical harm. Like her husband, she had been drinking some Elixir every evening ever since the first day Nicolas made it. Should she not be able to take it in the evening, the protection would slowly fade and then disappear.  
  
D'Agincourt was looking at her again, with much interest.  
  
"So you are more than three hundred years old," he said.  
  
"That was a very ungentlemanly remark," Perenelle replied coldly.  
  
"Oh, I apologise, madame. I didn't mean to insult you. I was merely marvelling at how beautiful you are, in spite of your age. It gives me hope" - a small wicked smile appeared on his lips - "that I will look that well three centuries from now, with the Philosopher's Stone in my possession." Now there was really no doubt about the reason for his kidnapping Perenelle.  
  
"Don't raise your hopes too high, monsieur d'Agincourt," she retorted, trying not to show any trace of fear. "I was much better-looking than you to start with."  
  
Her captor said nothing, but judging by the expression on his face, he was amused.  
  
Perenelle said quietly: "Anyway, you will never have the Stone. Nicolas would never give it to you."  
  
"Are you certain about that, madame? Wouldn't he? Even if your life was the price?"  
  
"Nicolas would sacrifice his life for me, and I would for him!" Perenelle spoke with in a very sharp voice, angered by this stranger who dared to question the love between her husband and herself. "But the Philosopher's Stone is a different matter. It is much more valuable than his life or mine. If it falls into the wrong hands, such as yours, the whole world might eventually be endangered. So I assure you, monsieur d'Agincourt" - she looked straight into his eyes and spoke steadily - "that Nicolas and I would sooner die than surrender the Stone to you."  
  
However, in her heart Perenelle did not feel so confident. She knew without a doubt that she would suffer torture and death rather than let the greatest achievement of the alchemists fall into unworthy hands. Death didn't really frighten her, for her life had been long and eventful. And she had experienced a lot of pain during that long life - pain from wounds and various illnesses that even included the plague - so she was in no doubt that she would endure torture without revealing the secret. But she was not so positive that she could bear seeing Nicolas tortured or killed. Wouldn't she do anything in the world to stop his suffering, anything at all? And wouldn't Nicolas feel the same, if her life was at stake?  
  
She did her best to hide her uncertainty and told d'Agincourt once more:  
  
"Kill me if it pleases you, but you will never have the Philosopher's Stone."  
  
"Don't be so assured of it, madame," d'Agincourt said, as he summoned a quill and a piece of parchment to write a letter. "And I do sincerely hope that I shan't be forced to harm you in any way."  
  
Perenelle didn't believe him. Her extraordinarily long life gave her a very good understanding of human nature, and she knew this man was going to kill her and Nicolas the moment he laid his hand on the Stone. He wouldn't want any other living soul to know that he possessed it.  
  
"Don't do it, Nicolas," she repeated over and over in her mind, as if it was possible for her husband to hear her thoughts.  
  
Nicolas Flamel was sitting at the desk in his Alchemy laboratory, writing down details about an experiment he had conducted, when an owl he had never seen before flew in through the window, threw a letter onto his desk and flew out again, not waiting for him to write an answer. The letter was sealed with wax, with a crest Nicolas hadn't seen before: lilies growing out of a wand. When he took it in his hand, a strange foreboding filled his heart.  
  
He opened the letter and stared at it in disbelief.  
  
Monsieur Flamel, If you want madame Perenelle to live, you will have to give me the Philosopher's Stone. Respectfully,  
  
Arcanus d'Agincourt  
  
Nicolas hadn't noticed Perenelle was missing. He'd been working in the laboratory since early morning - it was past noon now. He remembered kissing her before he fell asleep - was that going to be the last time he ever saw her?  
  
He buried his face in his hands and remained motionless for some time, then he stood up and walked across the laboratory, where a fierce-looking gargoyle with sharp teeth guarded a safe in the wall. That was the place he kept the Stone in. If anyone other then his wife or himself would be foolish enough to try and take it, the gargoyle would bite off their arm. And that was merely the first of many magical defences that guarded the Stone against intruders. This d'Agincourt, whoever he might be, was obviously intelligent enough not even to try breaking the magical defences - he chose a much simpler way. Perenelle's life was the only possible reason Flamel would even consider giving the Philosopher's Stone away.  
  
But Nicolas just stared at the gargoyle guarding the safe, making no attempt to open it. "You are not allowed to do it, not even for Perenelle. You are not allowed." he repeated over and over in his mind, trying to convince himself not to do what his wife's kidnapper had demanded. But when he imagined Perenelle taken away from him by the cold hands of Death, he felt as if a black emptiness was falling around him and suffocating him.  
  
He turned his back to the safe and walked up to a table full of glass vessels and pieces of various minerals and metals. Among them was a beautiful stone with a shiny red surface. He took it in his hand and observed it, whispering: "I wonder if he could be fooled.?"  
  
The red stone was a copy of the Philosopher's Stone he had made some time ago to fool enemies or thieves who might try and take it. The copy was nothing more than a semi-precious stone that he had bewitched to hold some magical powers. It could turn metals into gold, but they would turn back into their original form in three days' time. It could also be used as a catalyst in the preparation of an Elixir - but whereas the true Philosopher's Stone would produce the Elixir of Life, the copy would produce merely a Healing Elixir, similar in appearance but powerless in defying Death.  
  
"Most people would be fooled by this," Nicolas muttered to himself. "Of course, there is a simple way to test it, if one is evil enough - kill someone and observe whether the stone will restore his life - but if Fate is merciful, this d'Agincourt fellow won't think of it." He sighed and wiped the sweat off his brow. "If he tests it on metals, or by healing lighter wounds, he will think it is real. and, of course, I could bring him some of the real Elixir.."  
  
He glanced at the bright green liquid in a large crystal bottle, and an idea entered his mind. He began murmuring, as his face brightened up a little:  
  
"I wonder. it does look the same at first glance, and that fiend has never seen it before anyway. now, I know we have daisy roots and leech juice in the cabinet. and I believe Perenelle raised Shrivelfigs very successfully in the garden."  
  
The plan he had in mind was simple, almost childish, but it was just possible it might work. He knew he had some time - Perenelle still had the Elixir of Life in her system, she was safe from bodily harm until the evening. It was certainly worth trying.  
  
In the very short letter he had sent to Flamel, Arcanus d'Agincourt didn't write where he was or where he held Perenelle. That was proof of how much he knew about the Flamels. There was no need to specify where Perenelle was, for she and Nicolas had formed a magical bond between them, allowing each one of them to Apparate by the other's side even if they didn't know the exact location of the other. It was almost evening when Nicolas, taking advantage of that bond, willed himself by his wife's side and Disapparated from his laboratory.  
  
He found himself standing on a small wooden bridge across a moat, and an old stone castle was in front of him. Perenelle was nowhere to be seen. He understood: Perenelle must be inside the castle, but this was as close as he could get to her using Apparition. He walked over the bridge. The wooden beams of the bridge creaked as he tread on them, and a large, ugly creature appeared at the door of the castle alarmed by the noise. Nicolas took his wand out of his pocket hastily and pointed it at the beast.  
  
It was a troll - a smelly, vicious-looking troll holding a crude stone battle-axe. But it made no attempt to attack Flamel; it looked as if it was expecting him. The troll pulled a rope hanging beside the door, and a large bell started to ring - obviously, a signal to the master of the castle. Then the troll moved aside and gestured to Nicolas that he may enter. As he walked past the creature, Nicolas couldn't help marvelling at how well- trained it was. Clearly, the master of this castle was a powerful wizard.  
  
The hall he stepped into was dark, but the flickering light of torches could be seen coming from the upper floor through a stone stairway. Nicolas' heart felt heavy as he climbed the stairs. He found himself in a corridor and saw two more trolls, apparently guarding a door. Like the one at the entrance, they gestured him to enter the room.  
  
Nicolas Flamel took a deep breath and walked through the door.  
  
Perenelle was there, standing at the window and looking out; recognising the sound of his footsteps, she turn around and moved a few steps towards him, happiness combined with reproach on her face. Having been together for three hundred years, they didn't necessarily need words to communicate. She looked at him with wide open eyes, and he understood what she meant just as if she'd said it: You won't give him the stone, will you?  
  
Nicolas gave her a look meaning: Don't worry. Then he turned his eyes to the wizard sitting at the oak table, who was watching him with a very self- satisfied smile.  
  
"I'm honoured to meet you, monsieur Flamel", the wizard said, standing up to face him.  
  
"I'm afraid I cannot return the compliment," Nicolas said dryly. "Monsieur d'Agincourt, I presume?" D'Agincourt bowed his head politely, but as he looked up again his eyes suddenly glistened. "Now, let me see if you have brought to me what I had asked for." He lifted his wand. "Accio Philosopher's Stone!"  
  
Nothing happened, and both Flamels smiled ironically.  
  
"Do not be foolish, young man," said Nicolas. "You must have guessed that the Stone is protected against the Summoning Charm. If it was not, it wouldn't be necessary for you to go through all this trouble. You could have simply summoned it and it would have flown from my chateau directly into your hand."  
  
"You are right, monsieur. I was acting much too hastily. Do forgive me." D'Agincourt was again speaking in a pleasant and smooth voice, as if they were his guests. "I am truly honoured to meet both you and madame, and it would grieve me so much if I was forced to harm you."  
  
Perenelle looked at her husband with desperation, and once again he knew exactly what she was telling him with her eyes: He is going to kill us anyway.  
  
Nicolas looked at her sadly. I know.  
  
He understood that the only reason for d'Agincourt's politeness was the fact that he needed him to lift all protective spells off the Stone and explain to him how the Elixir was made, and how metals could be turned into gold. Once he learned all these things and made sure they were correct, he would kill them and become the only person in the world to know the secrets. But at the moment d'Agincourt was willing to have a courteous conversation, and there was something Nicolas was keen to find out.  
  
"How did you learn who we were?" he asked. His voice was shaking slightly - he was about to hear which of their friends had betrayed them.  
  
"A friend of yours revealed it in his memoirs. How unrewarding it is to trust people, isn't it?" D'Agincourt spoke with mocking sadness. "Oh, it wasn't any of your friends from this time," he continued, amused by the anger in the Flamels' faces. "It was the late Simone Meraviglia from Florence, a century ago. He wrote in his Magic Memoirs that his good friends, the Signorellis, were really a French fourteenth-century alchemist and his wife, and that they had the Philosopher's Stone in their possession."  
  
Nicolas and Perenelle looked at each other with pain. In the course of centuries it was simply bound to happen, sooner or later.  
  
D'Agincourt continued: "Naturally, at first I thought he was lying. But then I found out that there was no record of the Signorellis' birth or death - after some time, they simply travelled to another country and disappeared, but a new married couple of a different name suddenly appeared there - and so it went on. Once I understood it, the pattern was easy to follow."  
  
His voice became slightly sharper when he said: "I have answered your question, monsieur Flamel. Now is the time for you to give me the Philosopher's Stone."  
  
Without a word, Nicolas took the false Stone out of his pocket and put it on the oak table. He did not look at Perenelle, because she knew about the existence of the false stone and he didn't want their enemy to read too much in their faces.  
  
D'Agincourt bent over the Stone to observe it, but did not touch it. He was obviously afraid that it was protected by a curse, but didn't want to show his fear. Nicolas watched the tense, calculating expression of his face and judged that it was a good moment for what he had planned to do.  
  
"It is evening, Perenelle. It is time for you to take the Elixir," he told his wife quietly.  
  
"And for you as well, Nicolas," she said. "Did you take it already?"  
  
"No." There was a quiver in his voice as he spoke. "I wanted to be sure you took it first." He reached into the pocket of his cloak and took out a small vial filled with the bright green Elixir. Perenelle reached out to take it, but d'Agincourt suddenly shouted: "No!"  
  
They looked at him. He was staring at the bottle, his eyes glittering with desire.  
  
"Give it to me! I want to take it now!" His smoothness and self-control were gone. He stepped towards them, his eyes fixed on the small glass vial that contained immortality.  
  
Nicolas enclosed the vial in his hand and returned it to his pocket. "You will have infinite amounts of the Elixir very soon," he said angrily. "But this is for my wife, and you cannot have it."  
  
"You are not in the position to refuse, Flamel!" D'Agincourt was yelling now, and there was a mad look in his eyes. "Give me the Elixir."  
  
With a heavy sigh, Flamel took the vial out of his pocket and reluctantly handed it to d'Agincourt. As he did that, he was watching Perenelle through the corner of his eye and saw a tiny movement in her face. He knew that she had noticed.  
  
The vial that d'Agincourt greedily took out of Nicolas' hand was not the same one Nicolas had offered to Perenelle. The shade of green of the liquid inside was slightly, very slightly different, but the Flamels knew the Elixir of Life well enough to see the difference. The Elixir's green was the colour of life, akin to the colour of leaves and grass; this shade of green had something acidic in it.  
  
D'Agincourt hastily removed the stopper and raised the vial to his lips. He swallowed the liquid; there was a brief, horrible moment when he turned to Nicholas with hatred and anger in his face, but the very next moment there was a popping sound, and in d'Agincourt's place stood a small boy, no more than six years old.  
  
Perenelle stared at him incredulously. "A Shrinking Solution?"  
  
Nicolas was watching the confused little boy, finding it hard to believe that his simple plan had worked. "Yes. Greed makes such fools out of people, don't you agree?"  
  
The boy began to cry, and they almost felt sorry for him.  
  
"Come, we must leave the castle to Apparate," Nicolas said, putting the false Stone back into his pocket. He took Perenelle's hand. "There are two Trolls outside the room, and a third one in front of the castle. We will have to Stupefy them together, at the same time."  
  
Perenelle nodded, and they walked out of the room. Waving their wands and saying the incantation in unison was easy for them, and the two trolls collapsed on top of each other. They ran down the stairs.  
  
Two house elves were waiting at the bottom of the stairs, looking at them with very wide eyes, obviously scared by the noise the falling trolls had made.  
  
"Your master needs help," Perenelle told them. "He has become a little boy again. You'd better hide him from those trolls."  
  
The house-elves faces were full of terror, but they climbed the stairs to help their master. Perenelle looked at Nicolas and shrugged. "He is just a child. It's not his fault he was such a villain when he was an adult."  
  
Nicolas smiled. They were approaching the door now. "Do you feel well enough to Apparate? We should do it the moment we step outside."  
  
She nodded and said: "The garden."  
  
For a split second they were in a foggy evening landscape lit by the lanterns of Hinkypunks and an angry troll was rushing towards them, but the very next moment they were in front of their own chateau, and they fell, tired, into the fragrant grass. Perenelle started to laugh, but there were some tears in her eyes at the same time.  
  
"A Shrinking Solution! That was a brilliant idea, Nicolas!" She hugged him, and said in an ashamed voice:  
  
"I'm so sorry. This is my fault. I touched an apple, and it was a Portkey."  
  
"Nonsense. It's not your fault at all. What kind of life would we have if we kept suspecting objects around us of being Portkeys?" Nicolas felt a little ashamed too as he confessed:  
  
"You know, I didn't really notice you were gone until I received his letter."  
  
Perenelle laughed again and kissed him. "Exactly as I thought."  
  
Nicolas' face turned grave. He said: "I really thought I was going to lose you. And if that happened. I would never wish to continue this adventure of immortality if you were not with me to share it." He shivered - the evening suddenly seemed so chilly. "I could never do this alone, watching dear friends grow old and die, and their children's children, and their gravestones crumble with time."  
  
Perenelle looked into his eyes with the same grave expression. "Watching beautiful buildings being built and seeing them decay, watching as army after army invades the cities we know through the centuries."  
  
They embraced tightly and remained silent for a while. Then Nicolas said: "I think this was a reminder that we've stayed in one place too long. It may be time for us to leave France again. What do you think about Venice?"  
  
Perenelle considered it. "Venice is beautiful, but I think Russia might be more interesting. We have never been there before."  
  
"Russia sounds wonderful," Nicholas said.  
  
They stood up and walked into the chateau, hand in hand. Perenelle suddenly laughed.  
  
"We might send a bottle of antidote to our little friend when we arrive there. With greetings from St. Petersburg."  
  
Nicolas laughed too. "Oh, of course. As if we would want him to know where we are. No, he can remain a child. It's good for him."  
  
"Yes, maybe he will grow into a better adult this time! Oh, Nicolas." her voice was serious again as she asked him: "The real Philosopher's Stone is safe in your laboratory, isn't it?"  
  
"Don't worry, it is safe," Nicolas said quietly, but his hand touched a small object hidden in an inner pocket of his cloak  
  
He had been really terrified of losing her. And he would have given anything in the world to save her. Anything at all.  
  
Note: In "Harry Potter and The Philosopher's Stone" the Flamels are not hiding their identity - in the book Hermione shows Harry and Ron it is mentioned that they are enjoying a quiet life in Devon. For this story I assumed that in the past they were in greater danger, probably because laws against dark wizards were not so strong, and that the Philosopher's Stone was a secret to most wizards, not only to Muggles. 


End file.
